Perplexity on P1/2 (Parson's Cove Mysteries) (12 page)

     Stella came back and opened the phone book.

     “Lots of ‘Williams’ here,” she said. “Can’t find an Andrea though.” She slid her finger down the row.

     “Oh, shucks, I never thought of it but that’s because she’s married. I wish she would’ve said her husband’s name. I got the impression she was glad to be rid of him for a few days, to be honest with you. Just the way she talked, you know.”

     “Wouldn’t it be a coincidence if the two husbands knew each other?” Flori said.

     Stella grunted. “If this Williams guy is a jerk, for sure Cecile will know him.”

     She took a piece of paper out of her purse and wrote down the addresses of all the Williams in the phone book.

     “Do you think we should leave?” I said. Our cups were empty and the waiter was heading our way with the coffee pot again. “There’s quite a line-up at the door waiting for a table.” 

     “Good idea.” Stella stood up, waved to the woman with the crutches, and shouted, “Y’all can have our seat now, baby.”

     The young woman hobbled over and gave Stella a kiss on the cheek before sitting down.

    We got back into her car. Stella drove a 1975 pink Cadillac. I love my 1969 Buick but riding in this was like floating on a massive cloud. An earsplitting cloud that emanated gas fumes. I sat in the backseat with several empty paper coffee cups, French fry containers and at least, two dozen ketchup packets, some empty, some unopened. There was a child’s car seat in the other corner, filled with several stained and worn stuffed animals.

     I moved the refuse off my seat and let it fall to the floor. Flori looked around at me. Not that I’m a neat freak but I’m sure she thought I might say something offensive so before I could, she said, “Stella has almost as many grandkids as I do, Mabel. She baby sits every week so that’s why she has a car seat back there.” Then, to make sure I got the point, she added, “They always have to eat on the run because Stella has a very hectic schedule.”

     “Thank you for that information, Flori,” I said. “How many places do we have to check out, Stella?” I asked.

     “’Bout five or six. Seven, I think.”

     It was almost ten by this time. We started on the houses closest to the beach, driving along the avenues from east to west and sometimes, detouring around schools or churches. Most weren’t home and the ones who were had never heard of Andrea. Or, maybe she was someone’s second cousin who moved to California back in 1973. When it was almost noon, we decided to try one last house before going for lunch. I was still burping up eggs and salsa from breakfast. Stella and Flori announced that they were starving.

     The house was close to Avenue K. It was old and had seen much better days. If it had survived any of the hurricanes, no one would’ve known the difference. I went to the door alone. The small yard was overflowing with weeds. The sidewalk was heaving and cracking. I banged on the wooden door. I heard some movement inside. I banged on the windowpane this time. Someone from inside yelled something. No one came. I took my fist to the window again. Maybe if they thought the window might break, they’d come to the door.

     “Who is it and what do you want?” The voice was raspy and sounded like someone who’d smoked a pack-a-day for at least forty years. It was hard to tell if it was male or female.

     I yelled, “It’s Mabel Wickles and I’d like to talk to you.”

     The voice was louder and closer. “Who?”

     “Mabel Wickles.”

     “Do I know you?”

     “I’m looking for Andrea.”

     “She ain’t here.”

     “Do you know where I can find her?”

     “She don’ live here no more.”

     “Can you tell me what her husband’s name is?”

     “Ha! Far as I know, she ain’t got no husband.”

     “Who are you?” I asked.

     “Who are you?” she demanded.

     “I met Andrea on a trip to Las Vegas. A friend of hers, Grace, died and I wanted to let her know.”

     I could hear several latches clicking and the door slowly opened.

     “Andrea won a trip to Vegas? I’m Veronica, Andrea’s momma.”

     Veronica was about my age and my size.

     And, she was black.

Chapter Sixteen

     “There are obviously two Andrea Williams,” Flori said when I got back into the car and explained our conundrum.

     I nodded. There had to be. “I showed her the picture but she’d never seen our Andrea. I guess that means we stop to eat and then start up again. It’s a bit disappointing though.”

     “Wait one minute,” Stella said. “Seems to me, if I remember right, I used to know a Veronica Williams a few years ago. I’ll be back in a minute.” She climbed out of the car with as much agility as a three hundred pound woman can and waddled almost gracefully to the door that I had just exited. She knocked, the door opened instantly, and she was inside. We waited for ten minutes.

     “Do you think I ought to go in to see if she’s all right?” Flori wondered.

     “Somehow, I think Stella can look after herself. Veronica is about my size. I wonder what she’s finding out.” I reached over and patted Flori’s arm. “This was a good idea having Stella with us; she can get into places we never could.”

     Flori beamed and pointed toward the house. “Here she comes.”

     Stella heaved herself back behind the wheel, a smug look on her face.

     It took several seconds for her to catch her breath and then she said, “Thought I recognized the name. Her and me used to work at the same store years ago. We used to have this shoppin’ center called the White Mall. An’ trust me, that’s mostly who was in it too. The white folks. We was doin’ the work and they was spendin’ the money.” She laughed. “Never had two nickels to rub together. I guess it ain’t changed all that much.”

     “Oh surely, it has,” Flori said. “You have a lovely home and look at all the people in the restaurant this morning. Everyone was laughing and talking.”

     “Oh, sugar, you don’ understand unless you come from the south. But, let’s not talk about that. I got some news to tell you and I’m startin’ to think there’s more goin’ on in this little town than I ever knew. You wanna hear it?”

     “We aren’t sitting here hanging on to your every word for nothing, Stella.”

     “Oh Mabel, be quiet and listen. What did you learn?” Flori leaned over until her face was about five inches from Stella’s face.

     “That Veronica’s daughter don’ live with her no more because she disappeared several weeks ago. The police did a decent search for the first week or so but now it’s kind of on the back burner. She didn’t get along all that good with her momma so they think she mighta just took off.” She twisted around to face me. “What do you think, Mabel? Isn’t this a strange coincidence?”

     “I’m with you. I think there’s ‘somethin’ comin’ on’  down here.”

     “So, what’s our next move?”

     Flori said, “Let’s eat.”

     I knew enough not to come between Flori and her food and Stella and her food, so I went along with it.

     Stella pulled up in front of a small Cajun Greek restaurant. It wasn’t quite noon yet but it looked packed inside. One thing I had to say was the people of Yellow Rose sure did know how to eat. They swarmed to restaurants at breakfast and noon like seagulls diving for a crust of bread.

     After stuffing ourselves with blackened chicken ‘po’ boys,’ we decided to check out the last two addresses we had on our list. As it turned out, one house was vacant and a miserable old man and his humongous dog sat on the steps of the other one. I got as far as the gate, saw the man guzzling beer, saw the pit bull watching me, and I was back in the car before the dog hit the fence, running full speed.

     “Okay,” I said. “Forget about finding Andrea. She can read about Grace’s murder in the newspaper like everyone else. So, Stella, I was thinking, what if you and I check out the drug dealers’ places tonight? And, Flori, you could do surveillance from the house. How does that sound? That way, if Cecile comes to the house, you can phone Stella on her cell phone. What do you think?”

     The two women looked at each other and sort of shrugged.

     “I s’pose so,” Stella said, without too much enthusiasm. “You just make sure you keep the lights out, Flori, and he don’t see you.” She turned to me. “What did you want to do now, Mabel?”

     “After all that food, I want to go back to the hotel and have a nap.”

     They both looked as if that was the best suggestion they’d heard all day.

Chapter Seventeen

     I stretched out on my bed, trying to shut my brain off, and trying to piece everything together at the same time. The air conditioner in the window blasted out cold air, moving the drapes and blowing in my ear. No matter how much we tinkered with it, there seemed only the one setting so I was huddled under the covers with a comforter on top of that. Flori was lying on her bed on top of the covers, snoring softly.

     Were we on some wild goose chase? I mean, the only thing we knew for sure was that Grace was dead. We knew that she was from Yellow Rose. Now, we knew
who
her husband was but we didn’t know
where
he was. Had he followed her to Las Vegas to murder her? Why had he dumped her body behind the nursing home? Was there any connection to the murder and the nursing home? Had she lied to me when she said she wasn’t related to old Mr. Hobbs who used to live there? And, what about Andrea Williams? Where the heck was she?

     I fell asleep and dreamt that Reg Smee came down to Yellow Rose to take me home… in handcuffs.

     When I next opened my eyes, Flori was already up and sitting in front of the window, watching the water. I don’t think I’d ever seen such a tranquil look on her face. Even after giving birth.

     “This is what you needed, Flori. You needed a break from Jake and all your kids.”

     Flori’s face turned pink and her eyes got watery. “Oh, Mabel, and I was sitting here, just thinking how wonderful it will be to get back home and have everything back to normal.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I’m really not into the detective thing, you know.”

     “After knowing you for almost sixty years, Flori, I should’ve known you couldn’t stay away for more than a few hours. Do you think you can last out another day or two?”

     Flori smiled. “I can do that.”

     “Why don’t you phone one of the kids before we go to Stella’s? That will give you a new lease on life.”

     She managed to catch one of her sons but he was on his way out. He didn’t seem to know where she was or whom she was with or what she was doing but it made Flori feel much better. She had made contact.

     Stella was picking us up at six and she told us not to eat anything before we came. I didn’t intend to, not after all that lunch. She informed us that there was no point in searching for drug lords before nine. In all actuality, she said, it would be better to start after midnight but Flori and I vetoed that. We didn’t want to appear like country hicks but our usual bedtime was ten in the summer and nine, in the winter. She picked us up exactly at six. When we walked into her place, the dining room table was overflowing with food and there was background music blaring. 

     “Oh, Stella,” Flori said, her eyes lighting up. “This looks wonderful.”

     “Do you think,” I said, “it’s wise to play the music so loud? You know, with all the surveillance we’re going to be doing? Could it draw too much attention?”

     Not that her skin turned pink, but it was easy to tell that Stella was blushing. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “My son arrived home and he tol’ me he’s entertainin’ a lady friend down there and he want the music on, good and loud.” She shook her head. “It jus’ breaks my heart how that boy might be turnin’ out.”

     To myself, I was thinking, perhaps it’s time to be turnin’ that boy right out the door.

     Aloud, I said, “That’s okay, Stella. In fact, maybe it’s even better. Who would think someone was busy doing surveillance with loud music blasting?”

     While Stella was in the kitchen getting the appetizers, Flori said, “Wasn’t that nice of Stella, Mabel? I mean, to play the music for her son? You’d think he would want to play his own kind of music down there though, wouldn’t you? Not all women like country and western. It doesn’t seem too romantic to me.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. She leaned closer. “Or, maybe it’s for another reason. I know you don’t know about things like this, Mabel, but perhaps, he’s wanting to drown out the sounds of certain activities going on down there.”

     “You don’t have to whisper, Flori. If you yelled, she wouldn’t hear you.” I leaned over and spoke into her ear, “I don’t think you’d need music that loud to drown out a couple having sex, Flori. To be honest, it seems a little weird to me.”

     At the word, ‘sex’ her cheeks turned a bit pinker. She quickly changed the subject. I love using the ‘s’ word on her.

     “Oh, Mabel, don’t be so critical.” She smiled as she gazed at the table. “Look at all this food. Isn’t it grand?”

     For the next forty-five minutes, we ate, drank, and giggled hysterically. If you’re a skinny person like me and if you’ve ever sat at a table with two jolly over-sized people who laugh until they cry every few minutes, you’ll understand the situation. Even when the music was so loud we couldn’t hear, we still laughed. Of course, the wine may have had something to do with that.

     Our laughter came to an abrupt halt when Stella heard a car door slam. She raised her hand.

     “Listen,” she said. “I’m sure that’s comin’ from next door.”

     Personally, I hadn’t heard a thing and even Flori looked doubtful.

     We tiptoed over to the window and peered through the wooden slats. There was a car parked on the street and a man was walking to the door. He glanced up at the house, obviously attracted by the music. Which was exactly what I didn’t want. Oh well.

     “Who’s that?” Flori whispered. “That doesn’t look like that man in the picture.”